Pinkies Up
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Good manners always count and you never know when they just might save your life. A Working Stiffs story


Even when I was a little girl, I always wanted things just so. I watched and parroted my mother at her many tea parties, taking lessons from her and perfecting them, as much as a young child could, along the way. No one had to tell me to sit up straight at the table or use my napkin. I knew because my parent taught me. You might call them old fashioned, but to me, they were the King and Queen of proper etiquette.

My manners surprised and I think confused my teachers at first until they became used to me. My classmates, well, they weren't as accommodating, but I won them over in time. I attended school to learn and to develop my social skills and that meant being able to talk intelligently on a number of subjects. It also meant to listen, really listen, to people around me. I learned the difference between information and idle gossip. I learned my role in society and while I didn't always agree, I discovered how to play the game and obtain my goals.

Mother and Father sent me to a finishing school and it was a joy to further hone my skills. I graduated at the top of my class and then with a sinking in the pit of my stomach, I came to the realization that there was really nothing left for me. I could marry well and assume my place at my husband's side. The more I thought about it, the less it appealed to me. While I could appreciate it, I wanted more out of life.

My parents thought I was a little touched and sent me to Europe for a year. They thought it would settle me, but it had just the opposite effect. I wanted to contribute to society and more than just a well-executed tea party.

Father put his foot down and told me to stop this nonsense or I could say good bye to my trust fund. Mother arranged for a stream of suitors to call on me. They were all very nice in a bland sort of way. One face blurred into the next. I took a job at a local dress shop, mostly just to feel as if I was doing something.

One day a man stumbled into my shop, his clothes and hair awry. As the newest employee, I got the last dibs on lunch and had to take mine after the others. I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to tidy up and pretend I was doing something that mattered.

I looked up from neatly folding unmentionables when the door jingled, indicating there was a customer. I was hoping to perhaps make a bit on commission. Lunchtime was the only period during the day when there wasn't any competition. "May I… oh, my goodness." His face was brushed and there was a trickle of blood on his forehead.

"Please, I am hoping you can help me. There are some men after me and I need a place to hide."

He was holding his side in an odd manner and his eyes pleaded with me. I made a split second decision. Instead of demanding, he'd very politely asked for help. I had no question in my mind that if I had said no, he'd have immediately left. It had been his manners that spurred me into action. "Behind the counter."

I helped him to the floor and tucked some merchandise around him as he huddled there. It was the first time I had been in the position of protector and my inner grizzly bear was about to surface. I hurried wiped up the few drops of blood he'd left in his wake and resumed my task of folding.

Two very large men burst rudely into my shop, guns drawn. They hit the door so hard the little bell above the door fell off. I'd never seen a gun before, much less had them pointed in my direction. I suppose a proper lady would faint, but I've never been a fragile flower. Instead, I calmly reached for my sale pad and resisted looking at my guest.

"Where is he?" One of them thundered up to the counter and shouted at me. What was I to do? I stand about five feet two inches barefoot. They both outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds. I had no weapon and no one to call for help. So I fell back upon my one strength.

"Where is he, **please**?" I gestured open handed to the bell. One should never point. "I will expect you to remonstrate with that, either as a repair or financial compensation."

"Huh?" His gun lowered a little and he looked down at the floor. The bell looked very sad.

"Please and thank you demonstrate good manners and a regard for the people around you," I answered, setting down the pad.

"Quit stalling," the second man shouted. "He came this way, lady. Where is he?"

"My name is Jean Evelyn Wiley. And you are?"

"Running out of patience, lady."

"Miss Wiley to you. I'm very pleased to meet you and your friend, Mr. Patience. Might I show our latest line of skirts? We are also running a very lovely sale on nylons and handbags."

That was met with a heavy sigh of frustration. "Do I look like I need nylons or a handbag?"

"No, you look like an ill-bred, poorly dressed man who has had to settle in life as opposed to pursuing your own goals. It's never too late to return to school and better yourself." I tried to keep my knees from knocking. "And you need to re-fold your handkerchief and flute it properly."

"Come on, Bert." The first man tugged his companion's sleeve. That's a very bad habit. "If he was here, he's long gone by now. Probably went out the back door."

Mr. Patience looked back at me and scowled. "You are just lucky I'm in a hurry, Miss Priss, or I'd show you just how much of a gentleman I ain't."

"Ain't is not considered proper English. You need to choose a better phrase. I'm sorry we don't have what you are looking for. Perhaps another time."

With another scowl and a very coarse word, they were gone and I leaned on the counter top in relief. I felt both terrified and exhilarated simultaneously. I took a couple breaths to calm myself and then went to the door, locked it and turned the 'back in ten minutes' sign around. At least that would offer me a little privacy now.

I hurried back around the counter and knelt, pushing the merchandise away from him. "You can come out now. They are gone and you are safe."

"Thank you, Miss Wiley." His smile was sweet. "If I could ask one more favor of you, please?"

"Of course."

"There is a number on the back of my card. Would you be so kind as to dial it for me?" His hand was shaking as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin wallet. "Tell them my name and our location, please. They will take care of the rest."

"And what are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Pass out." And he promptly did just that. This was my introduction to the world of UNCLE and the legendary Napoleon Solo.

After his coworkers arrived, they busied themselves getting Mr. Solo back to wherever they were going and I was left in the dust, already feeling a void. I glanced at the clock and realized that that not even an hour had passed. It felt like all day. When my fellow employees returned, they didn't even know anything had happened and for some reason, I didn't share my adventure. That made it mine and mine alone. I made up a little story about the bell and that seemed to satisfy the owner.

New day, same lunch hour. I was pricing some stockings when I heard the door jingle. Looking up, I saw Mr. Solo, his arm in a sling. There was a slender blond man with him and he was carrying a long box.

"Well, good afternoon, Mr. Solo. You look considerably better than the last time we met."

"Good afternoon, Miss Wiley. I have you to thank for that." He looked at the man, who offered him the box. "This is my partner, Illya Kuryakin."

He snapped forward in a short bow and took my hand, his lips just brushing the finger.

"What you did showed remarkable courage and thought. I thank you for that and for saving my erstwhile partner from a terrible fate."

"It was quite literally the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I was pleased to be of service to him."

Mr. Solo held out the box. "I have a little something for you."

Inside the box was a dozen long stem roses and an employment offer. It's rather funny when you think about it now. Am I an expert of weapons? A skilled teacher of strategies and subterfuge? A mast of codes, disguises and combat? No, I now teach our agents something far more intricate and important. I teach them how to handle themselves at a dinner party. I teach them which fork to use, how to make polite conversation and how to conquer the dance floor. UNCLE makes them into skilled agents. I make them into gentlemen.

Now we fast forward a few years. I'm an old hand at teaching brash young men and a few women the way to properly comport themselves.

I was sitting at my desk when my office door opened and my favorite UNCLE agent walked it. Napoleon and I were old friends now. He's got too much of a roving eye for my tastes, but I will admit he knows how to treat a lady.

"Napoleon Solo! How are you?" I stood and he closed the gap with two steps and gave me a lovely hug. As I said, we are old friends.

"Jean, I swear you look lovelier every time I cast an eye on you."

"Your silver tongue never gets tired, does it?"

"Not as a rule." I ushered him to a chair and he sat, his attention never off me for an instant. He was like a cat stalking a grasshopper.

"What do I owe the pleasure?"

"I, meaning UNCLE, need a favor."

"Of course." He knew I couldn't deny UNCLE, or even him, anything.

"We are providing security for the Crowned Prince of Dubai as he visits our Embassy here. I need someone at my side whom I know can handle herself in every situation."

"Surely there are other female agents who are better suited for this."

"Perhaps, but I am asking you."

"Why?"

"Because I know you can handle yourself under pressure and because I thought you would enjoy it."

"I won't have to carry a weapon, would I?"

"Not if you prefer not to."

"What about your partner?"

"Oh, Illya will be lurking in the background. It's one of his many talents." He smiled at me then. "What do you say?"

So that was how I ended up at a table, doing my best to keep my elbows tucked in and make clever conversation with a French Ambassador and a Captain from the Italian Navy. Napoleon managed to be part of everything and always kept part of his focus on me while continually scanning the room for his partner. I'd looked everywhere for Illya myself and hadn't had any luck at all.

I folded my napkin carefully and stood. Instantly Napoleon was there, pulling out my chair.

"Trouble?" It was a whisper, but it rose about the surrounding buzz.

"I need to powder my nose." Actually, I just needed to stretch my legs and adjust my girdle a little, but a lady only had so many options open to her.

The facilities at the Embassy were very nice, but in the end, a toilet is a toilet. I was in the last stall and was struggling to get my girdle back into a reasonably comfortable position when I heard someone enter. Well, more correctly, someones as they were having a conversation.

"Are we alone?"

For some reason, I lifted my feet so that they weren't visible. Obviously they weren't expecting trouble for I heard:

"Yes, we are. Is everything on schedule?"

"It is. When the Prime Minister introduces the prince, our man will take out the PM out. In the ensuing panic, we will snatch the Prince and be gone before UNCLE will even know what happens."

There was the usual sound of someone using a toilet and washing up. For a long time, I sat and waited. When I heard someone else enter, I knew it was fine and exited the stall. I quickly washed my hands and headed back to the table.

Napoleon stood as I approached, his face concerned, "Is everything all right?"

"No, I need to talk to you privately," I said quietly and looked over at a nearby alcove.

Napoleon mumbled something to our tablemates and led me away. "What's going on?"

"I heard two people talking. I think they were THRUSH. They are talking about shooting the Prime Minister and kidnapping the Prince."

"Did you see their faces?"

"No, unfortunately. "

"I will give Illya a head's up. You go back to the table."

He was back a moment later and leaned close. "Make a distraction." He kissed my cheek and sat down.

Then I jumped up, slapped his face and screamed, "How dare you!"

Napoleon looked about as surprised as a person could be and pulled back. His chair caught and tipped. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed for something. In this case, it was the table cloth. He took the table cloth and everything on the table with him when he went over backwards.

There was pandemonium and a great explosion. Somehow, amidst all the sound and fury Napoleon managed to get to his feet and took me by the elbow, pushing me away from the chaos.

Abruptly, I heard a shot and then others. Napoleon curled himself over my head and torso, pushing me down to the floor. I was terrified, but I swallowed my fear and kept still

It was over in a heartbeat and there was an eerie silence. "Napoleon?"

"It's all right, Jean." He pulled back and let me sit up. The room was in turmoil, furniture overturned and strewn everywhere.

"Is the Prince safe?"

"He is as is the Prime Minister, thanks to you. Let's get you home."

He stood and helped me to my feet. Carefully we picked our way thought the room. I caught sight of a person, covered with blood and not moving. I gasped and Napoleon turned my face into his neck. I breathed his aftershave and felt his strength and let it calm me. He spoke quiet nonsense to me as he led me through the room.

He paused and there was a quiet conversation. Then I felt my wrap being draped over my shoulders. "Jean, this is Mr. Pankow. He'll take you home."

"And you?"

"Illya and I have a long night ahead of us." He gave my cheek another soft kiss. "Two nations thank you for what you did tonight."

I tried to get the vision of that body out of my mind. Up to this point, I'd lived in a fairy tale. I'd never seen the gritty underbelly of UNCLE, the violence and the killing. I was busy teaching agents which fork to use and when to stand.

"Hey." Napoleon's voice pulled me back. "I've seen that look before. I'm sorry that people died tonight, but if it's any consolation, many others are alive because of you."

I wish I could believe that, but I smiled and nodded. Good night."

Yet I couldn't shake the feeling. A few days later, I was sitting in my classroom staring at a stack of papers. A week ago, this quiz had seemed very important. Now I felt nothing.

The door opened and Napoleon's ghost like partner entered. In the five years I'd worked for UNCLE, I'd spoken to him perhaps half a dozen times. Mr. Kuryakin was not the easiest of men to get to know.

"Miss Wiley, may I speak with you?" He hovered by the door, prepared to leave if I said no.

"Of course, Mr. Kuryakin. Come in and have a seat."

He did as I bade and for a moment just sat there as if trying to find the right words. "Napoleon tells me that you are thinking of resigning."

"He's correct." In fact, the letter was on my desk, just waiting for me to hand it in.

"I would ask that you reconsider."

"Why?"

"You may not think that you make a difference, but you do."

"What difference? Men and women died because of me."

"Yes, they did, but we are at war and the first rule of war is that people die. Frequently they are people who were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was not the case at the Embassy."

"Strangely, that doesn't make me feel any better."

"I do not have the gift of a glib tongue such as Napoleon. However, you do contribute in a very real way to UNCLE."

"By teaching manners?"

"By teaching people how to properly comport themselves. If we did not have people such as you teaching us how to handle ourselves in certain situations. It allows us to move with greater freedom and grants us access into venues where we would otherwise find ourselves barred. A bull is not allowed in a china shop." He paused and looked around the room. "I had to come by my training on the job and it very nearly took my life more than once. Had I not been concentrating so hard on the correct etiquette, I would carry fewer scars."

"What would you have me do?"

"Stay. Even if you think you aren't making a difference. After all, I have you to thank for my partner's life."

"Is that enough?"

His smile was a mere whisper. "To me, it is everything." His communicator went off and he spoke into it quickly. "I must go. Excuse me, please." He stood and gave me a short bow.

"Mr. Kuryakin?" I said to his back.

He paused and looked over his shoulder. "Ma'am?"

"I will think about it. Thank you."

I did think about it. I still have my resignation letter, but now besides just teaching my students random niceties, I trim my lectures with alternatives and options, should they find themselves in a bad situation. My job isn't perfect, but I do believe just as Mr. Kuryakin said that I am making a difference. I hope so. At least Napoleon is still alive.


End file.
